


dining in (and eating out)

by remuspolaris (risolyandiwys)



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 07:06:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18177443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risolyandiwys/pseuds/remuspolaris
Summary: in which misty is hungry for something specific and cordelia just can’t say no.





	dining in (and eating out)

**Author's Note:**

> yeah... this is literally all porn, no plot. oops?
> 
> based off the prompt: “eat your lunch and you wouldn’t be hungry.”

Dinner begins like this: Misty and Cordelia in her office, two boxes of take out on the desk between them. It’s a habit they’ve gotten into, where the two of them eat and talk about anything and everything. This is something Cordelia looks forward to doing twice a week, makes a point to avoid cancelling, regardless of what’s going on around them.

Tonight, though, it doesn’t seem like Misty is completely present. She hasn’t said as much as she normally would, is pushing her food around with a fork and — did she just say she’s _hungry_?

“Eat your dinner and you wouldn’t be hungry,” Cordelia tells her with a laugh.

“No, that’s not—” Misty lets out a quiet sound of frustration and lets her fork fall into the box. “What I mean is—”

Cordelia sets down her own fork and sighs as she regards Misty, eyebrows furrowing as she begins to grow concerned. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I’d rather eat _you_.”

And, yeah, dinner starts out as an innocent affair but with Misty’s words, it shifts and food is pushed to the very edge of the desk and — where there should be light conversation and soft laughter, there is heat and wanting and consent is given with a simple _do it_.

It really should not be a surprise that Misty indulges in what she wants as soon as she has full permission, Cordelia supposes. She’s never really been one to hesitate, tends to know what she wants and goes after it. It’s just — Cordelia’s had an inkling, but she hasn't been completely certain that she‘s what Misty wants.

However, Misty’s face between her legs is all she needs to be sure of it.

Cordelia can’t complain that it took her so long to realize it. She can’t complain about anything — that their food is lying forgotten near the far corner of her desk, that her underwear is lost somewhere behind her (surely it couldn’t have just _disappeared_ ) and is most likely ruined, even that Misty is eating her out in her office of all places. The moment Misty had knelt in front of her and their eyes met, Cordelia saw the heat (the _raw_ _desire_ ) directed at her. She knew in that moment she wouldn’t refuse Misty anything she may want from her. Although, her next request isn’t one she would consider objecting to regardless.

“Would you mind sittin’ on your desk for me, darlin’?”

Cordelia now finds herself perched on the edge of her desk with her skirt bunched up around her waist, one hand behind her to hold her upright, and her fingers lost in Misty’s hair as she holds the other woman in place. Misty’s hands are seemingly everywhere — stroking the inside of her thighs, splayed out against her abdomen (and, oh, she’d been eager to unbutton Cordelia’s shirt before she began), leaving light scratches everywhere they go. Misty’s mouth and, god, her _fucking_ tongue, are stoking the flames she feels growing within her by the second.

Misty keeps a steady rhythm even as she brings Cordelia closer to the edge she’s inevitably going to fall from, which Cordelia likes. It’s just what she needs and she murmurs her approval, loosens her grip on Misty’s hair and runs her fingers through it instead in gentle encouragement. Misty hums against her and Cordelia sighs at the sensation, tips her head back and closes her eyes as she begins to move her hips just a bit.

“Oh, Mist…” she breathes out, tries to press herself more against Misty’s mouth. She’s close, she’s _so_ close, and she  knows she needs just a little more —

Misty loops her arms around Cordelia’s thighs and her mouth becomes firm against her as her tongue lazily swipes at her clit, rhythm never wavering even as Cordelia grows rigid and comes hard, lets out a low moan that elicits one from Misty as well. Cordelia’s arm nearly gives out from under her as Misty uses her tongue to lap at the remaining wetness.

“C’mere,” Cordelia murmurs and tugs at Misty, doesn’t let up until Misty is standing between her spread legs.

Misty has her hands flat on the desk, one on either side of Cordelia’s thighs, and Cordelia wants to say something (anything) but she slips her hands beneath the tank top Misty’s wearing and feels the hard muscle beneath soft skin. Then Cordelia withdraws her hands only to curl her fingers into the material right over where her hands had just been, pulls Misty forward and into a heated kiss. Misty kisses her back with no hesitation, merely brings a hand to the back of Cordelia’s head as she deepens it.

Misty is kissing Cordelia so thoroughly, her toes curl and she involuntarily presses herself more against her. She wants more of her, wants to know what she tastes like, wants to know the sounds she’ll make when she’s at the mercy of Cordelia’s touch. More than that, she just wants the chance to touch Misty too.

And, apparently, Misty wants to give that to her.

“Why don’t you sit down, darlin’?” Misty suggests, nods toward the couch against the far wall.

Cordelia does as requested and sinks into the couch, watches with an unwavering gaze as Misty lifts her tank top over her head and tosses it aside. And then Misty is straddling her lap, her skirt hiding where Cordelia wants to be the most — but she whispers _touch me_ against the shell of Cordelia’s ear before kissing her — so she does. She snaps and the skirt is off to the side, just next to her discarded top.

“Fuck, Misty.” Cordelia groans softly because _of course_ she’s not wearing any underwear and Misty is so, _so_ wet for her.

“Oh, you’re about to, sugar,” Misty remarks with soft laughter. It turns into a long exhale as Cordelia’s fingers find her, dance over her heated, slick skin and then sink fully into her at her breathless insistence.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Cordelia gasps and settles her free hand against the small of Misty’s back. Supports Misty as she rides her fingers — and Cordelia almost comes again just from watching her, just from having her undulate on top of her.

“I’m afraid it won’t take much for me,” Misty says in a shuddering voice. “Not after I had you in my mouth, your skin beneath my fingertips… I almost came the moment I put my mouth on you. You taste _so_ good.”

Cordelia holds her hip with her free hand as she curves the fingers inside of her, angles her hand so each stroke elicits a whimper from Misty. Cordelia hears her speak, knows she’s trying to say _something_ , but the words are lost as Misty tightens around her fingers and her body grows taut. Cordelia watches her as she comes, and slips her fingers out as Misty’s grip on her loosens and she slumps forward against her. It’s mildly uncomfortable, Cordelia thinks, and she keeps an arm around Misty as she shifts so they can lie down.

Misty’s fingers are curled into her shirt, and she doesn’t let go even as she leans forward to kiss Cordelia — and it’s slow and so, _so_ soft and it’s a sharp contrast to the heat of those that came before. Cordelia likes kissing Misty, and although being kissed with passion is incredible, she very much likes this too. She likes Misty’s gentle touch and her lips moving over her own, catching her bottom lip and then her top, her tongue sliding against hers, and the way she bites down ever so lightly on her lip as she withdraws.

“I know I’m not be the best with words. I sure do hope I more than made up for the _ridiculous_ way I came on to you,” Misty murmurs against her lips. “That isn’t exactly what I planned on saying, at all.”

Cordelia feels Misty shake with silent laughter, and can’t keep the amusement out of her voice as she responds. “You did, my love. You may not be the smoothest talker, but you are _very_ good with your mouth. I have no complaints whatsoever.”

“So, uh… what do you say we finish our dinner?” Cordelia raises her brow as they both move to sit up, and Misty clears her throat as a light dusting of pink tinges her cheeks. “I was too nervous to eat before.”

Cordelia rolls her eyes, doesn’t bother to suppress her smile as she stands and smoothes down her skirt, though she doesn’t bother buttoning her shirt. She watches for a moment as Misty redresses, and then grabs their food from where it had been shoved to the edge of the desk. She brings it to the couch and hands Misty her box once she joins her.

Dinner ends like this: Cordelia and Misty on the couch, eating food that has long-since grown cold, talking about anything and everything as they further explore the beautiful connectionthat’s always been there between them.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ remuspolaris


End file.
